


Sinking Ships

by Eureka234



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Backstory, Challenge Response, F/M, Internal Conflict, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Light Masochism, One Shot, Past Relationship(s), Polyamory, Secret Santa, Self-Reflection, Service Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-16 20:28:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13061559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eureka234/pseuds/Eureka234
Summary: When Isabela and Hawke have an argument about the boundaries of their relationship, Isabela tries to make sense of the past in order to resolve it.Written as part of the Dragon Age Secret Santa Challenge 2017.





	Sinking Ships

**Author's Note:**

  * For [I_Write_Tragedies_Not_Sins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Write_Tragedies_Not_Sins/gifts).



> Happy holidays to I_Write_Tragedies_Not_Sins. It's funny I got you for Secret Santa again but I enjoyed writing this story. It's my first time writing Zevran so I hope I got it right. 
> 
> Beta credit: Cadogan (http://archiveofourown.org/users/Cadogan/works)  
> Thank you Schattenriss for discussing story ideas with me.
> 
> Story title is named after the Trees of Eternity song by the same name: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hcND9i1pSRo
> 
> Note. Some like to differentiate between polysexual and polyamory. I refer to them both as poly. 
> 
> I like to think that the references in this are a more accurate representation of poly than fics that just show it as threesomes... 
> 
> If any other readers find BDSM or poly offensive, don't read. Thank you.

**9:41 Dragon**  

By sheer numbers and the lively whispers, Skyhold looked like it was hosting an outdoor party. It wasn't.

Her wonderful man, Garrett Hawke, the Inquisitor, and a few others had fallen into a fade rift so long ago Isabela no longer knew how much time had passed.

Only so many distractions were available before she wanted the talented group of fighters and the Fade rift to get a bloody move on.

Finally, new, panicked movement, gasps, questioning and exclamations echoed.

Finally, the crowd around the glowing fissure was dissipating. The only reason Isabela wasn’t one for pushing the nobodies out of the way was because of the fear of what she would see on the other side.

For a moment, she stood still, stunned. _Please don't be dead, please don't be dead…_ she thought.

Voices came, groaning, familiar exhausted chatter. She spotted the Inquisitor Evelyn first, nursing an injury and not immediately answering questions. Then she spotted her man gingerly rising to his feet.

Garrett's marking on his nose had been smudged again, of course, and his usual beautiful face had become all the more appealing because it had an open wound. Dribbles of blood were congealing in his beard. His mage cloak was tattered. Scanning him up and down, she spotted he had all his limbs.

_Is it too soon to be thinking about ‘Thank the Maker you’re alive’ sex?_

“You’re back,” Isabela said, raising her voice. “In one piece, surprisingly.”

Over time, one became rather matter of fact about life threatening situations. Apparently startled, her man looked around and smiled when he saw her.

“Hey,” Garrett countered. “Even if I lose my every limb, isn’t the remaining part of me still one piece?”

“Yes, actually,” Isabela replied, “At lucky times, you’re more clever than I give you credit for.”

“And you already think I’m so smart,” Hawke said, his smile widening.

Isabela shook her head and closed the distance between them.

 _That cocky man,_ she thought, _but he’s my charming cock head._

“Would you like some alcohol to heal your wounds?” the pirate inquired.

Hawke put his hands on his hips. “Depends. Do you have an ulterior motive?”

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be much of ulterior motive,” Isabela said with a wink.

“Uh huh,” Hawke said, unconvinced. He put a hand on her back. “Let’s get some beer, love. I mean, after formalities are over and everything.”

Isabela put her arm on Hawke’s back. He tried to push it off, as usual, but when Isabela squeezed his butt, her lover ceased fighting her affection.

“That’s a good man,” she said, patting the small of his back. “Now, what exactly happened in the green, voodoo land of nightmares?”

Hawke sighed. “What was there? Umm, a heroic sacrifice, rest in peace, Stroud, spiders, disembodied voices, flashing lights, or floating lights, libraries… it was one of the strangest things I’ve ever seen.”

“That’s unexpected and frightening,” Isabela said. She checked the Inquisition numbers again. “It is terrible Stroud departed to meet the Maker.”

“Yeah. I didn’t know him well, but I’d rather not think about it for… forever, no… until two weeks. Give me a week,” Hawke decided.

“Of course,” Isabela agreed. The Fade trip sounded like a literal nightmare, which made it insurmountably more horrible. She didn’t want to make him relive it so soon. “Want to hear about what all the Inquisition members did while they waited for you?”

“Er, yeah, if it’s funny,” Hawke said.

“Some of them, the Grey Wardens, mostly, got fed up waiting after twenty minutes and played cards on the ground,” Isabela said.

Hawke thankfully laughed.

“I don’t blame them. I joined in,” Isabela said, “You risk your life or others enough times and you lose sight of why you worry yourself into a mess for no reason.”

“It makes strange sense when you put it like that,” Hawke said. “What did you play?”

They were interrupted by a speech from Inquisitor Evelyn.

* * *

 

They continued their talk about cards for the time it took to reach the Herald’s Rest and order drinks. They found a small table that was in the secluded corner. The topic changed to what the Inquisition would do next as they drank the first glass. When they were on the second, Hawke became withdrawn and quiet, an opposite to his usual cheery drunken mood.

Isabela ran a hand over his neck. “The so-lovely Garrett, what is troubling your big, gorgeous head?”

Hawke stared at another table, before slumping onto his elbows. “Isabela, what would you have done if I didn’t make it? That could have happened. It was either me or Stroud.”

 _And you were thinking you’d avoided the topic of death. Try again, Isabela,_ the pirate thought. She paused, trying to bring her thoughts together while slightly tipsy. “You know how to make things complicated, don’t you?”

“It’s not about complicated,” Hawke said. “I am serious. I just want to know how you envision your life without me.”

_That stings, right there in the deep end, Isabela. Now dive and drag out the stale remains that you left for the fish to eat._

Instead of looking intrigued, Isabela surveyed the fingerprints on her glass. “I’m not sure you truly want an honest answer to that.”

“Yeah? I’m asking. If I get mad, that’s on me.”

“You make a good point,” Isablela sighed. “If you’re so certain, I would do what I did when I ran away from being married the second time.”

“And… what was that?”

“I’d go to a tavern, get really drunk, probably find someone to bring to bed,” Isabela enumerated, “and have my way with them.”

Her partner was silent for a second. He crossed his arms and looked more pensive than sulky.

“Huh,” Garrett said.

“Does that come as a surprise?” Isabela inquired.

“I don’t know,” Hawke said. “I find it weird.”

“Because I wouldn’t burn all your clothes as part of a ritual and dance around a fire?”

“N… No,” Hawke responded, slowly, “My answer should be obvious.”

“Tell me.”

“That’s all it takes for you? I die and you’ve moved on just like that?”

“No,” Isabela said. “I don’t move on from _love_ so easily. Sex isn’t love unless you love the other person.” She thought that was obvious. “Casual sex would be a pleasant distraction, like these drinks.”  

Hawke stayed still for a long time.

“You’re right,” he said, finally.  “I don’t like your answer.”

“You’re the one who wanted to know,” Isabela said, “Should I leave you to your brooding, lovely Garrett? Should I have lied?”

“I don’t want you to lie,” Hawke said, with more force than it appeared he wanted, “I thought I meant more to you than that, that’s all. I thought that I had changed you enough that your… _those_ sexy behaviours wouldn’t come to you so naturally. Maybe I am wrong, but it feels like I’m only a bandage holding a wound together.”

“What wound?” Isabela inquired, “The only wound you’ve stitched together is my fear to love again. Having sex with other people won’t undo that.”

“Somehow I don’t believe you,” Hawke replied, bitter. “Does that mean that if you had sex with another person right now it also wouldn’t change anything? Because it would to me.”

“I know it would change things for _you_ ,” Isabela said, “That’s why I don’t do it.”

“What would that mean to you?”

“It wouldn’t change how I feel about you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You are the object of my romantic desires. That’s obvious,” Isabela said, “Can I be any more in-your-face about it? And let’s say, for the sake of argument, I went to have sex with somebody right now, because you said I could.”

“Why would I _ever_ say that?”

“Let’s say you did. I am saying that I would come back right afterwards, after washing up, and nothing between us would have changed. You would continue to be the object of my romantic desires, and we would continue life as so-merry usual.”

Hawke looked angry. “No, we wouldn’t continue _as usual_ , because I would know you had gone and done something very _unusual_.”

“How is having sex unusual?” Isabela asked. “It’s not like blood magic where the Templars will get us.”

“Isabela, I can’t believe what I am hearing,” Hawke growled. “You having sex with someone else is not the same as having sex with me. You’re acting like they’re exactly the same.”

“This was supposed to be a hypothetical situation,” Isabela said, angrily, “and you’re getting all shoddy like I’ve cheated on you.”

“It sounds very real to me. It does feel like you want to cheat on me,” Hawke said. “This is what you really think?”

“Yes, it is what I think,” Isabela said, “I thought you had enough sense to know that because I love you, our sex isn’t the same as casual… and I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s a big difference between what I think and what I do.”

“You want to cheat on me, then?”

“Go behind your back? No.”

“Have sex with someone else?”

“If the opportunity was there with someone I liked and you’d let me, I wouldn’t refuse,” Isabela said, crossing her arms.

“What in the Maker is your problem, Isabela?” Hawke demanded. “I don’t know if sleeping around for half your life has made you… yes, I’ll use the word ‘unhinged’, but you’re talking like you’ve got a clog or two loose in your head.”

“Sure, I’ve answered your questions honestly, which means I need cleansing from the Maker,” Isabela said with a roll of her eyes. She was starting to get angry, and Maker forbid, that had rarely happened in their entire 3 year relationship. Or when it did, they just solved the argument rather effortlessly. This didn’t seem like it would be so fair.

“ _Sleeping with other people while you’re in a relationship isn’t okay_ ,” Hawke said, talking slowly as if explaining the alphabet to a child. “Why are you acting like it is?”

“Why are you acting like it isn’t?” Isabela shot back, “If a man and a woman, or a man and a man, or whatever, really, both agree they can, I don’t see what the problem is.”

“Why would _anyone_ agree?” Hawke nearly shouted. “Why would _I_ ever agree to something like that?”

“You tell me. I have no idea.”

“I wouldn’t, because it undermines our relationship,” Hawke said, “It makes it not as special, it means you can drop me like I’m nothing… I can’t believe you don’t understand that!”

“I do. You are the most important person in my life,” Isabela said, “and the fact you’re acting like you're not is bloody sad.”

“If I am so important, then how come you still feel feelings and desires for other people?”

“Maybe because I don’t have a heart of stone,” Isabela said, “Funny, because everybody says I am heartless. Do you think I am too?”

A wave of bitterness came over her, and hurt, that Garrett didn't seem to believe in their love… the greatest thing to ever happen to her.

At least, she thought so up until now.

“It doesn’t make any sense to me,” Garrett said.

“Maybe you need to sit in the corner and think long and hard about it,” Isabela said, condescending.

“Don’t….” Hawke took a large swig of his drink. “I am not a child. You’re living in some other world, Isabela. What kind of person sleeps with another and then simply returns to their partner, when they _both_ know about it?”

Isabela tried to remain composed, but this whole argument was stupid. “People that aren’t you, clearly. It’s not as otherworldly as you think it is.”

“I highly doubt there is anyone else alive who thinks the same twisted things that you do,” Hawke spat. He almost spilled his drink, so binged the rest.

Isabela sighed. “It doesn’t matter, does it? I wish you’d drop it. I am with you. I won’t do any of those things, because I know it rubs you the wrong way.” She took a sip of her drink. Then realized she wasn’t sure what else she wanted to talk about. “Now, I have better things to do.”

She tipped the rest of her drink in Hawke’s glass, stood from her chair and departed the tavern.

“As long as you don't leave Skyhold,” Garrett said.

* * *

 In normal circumstances where people had petty disagreements, Isabela would go to a tavern and dance her worries away. Since she’d just been drinking, the argument wasn’t so petty, and she wanted to avoid a tavern, she was at a loss of where to go. If she went back to her room, Garrett would find her.

Isabela didn't want to be discovered.

She wiped some beer off her chin and walked to one of those creepy staircases in the stone buildings everyone hated. No one would find her there, except spiders, and possibly Cole.

With much exertion, a lung full worth of dust, and coughing, Isabela cleared a spot on one of the stairs a few steps up and sat down, letting her legs dangle off the edge.

Hopefully Cole wouldn’t pop out from nowhere. He would probably agree with her on the argument, because the spirit wouldn’t know any better, though she didn’t need validation or someone to agree with her. She needed space.

If she had stayed in the Herald’s Rest, she would scan the crowd… sit in a corner and drink. All those simple people, they were untouchable. That was okay.

_That’s not the point._

She rubbed her forehead with her fingers. If Hawke had wanted to hit on another woman, Isabela would let him. It would be entertaining. She enjoyed seeing him happy. That clearly wasn’t Hawke’s style. He was the proper, follow the rules sometimes boy from a rich family line. A relationship with the one true love was a rule he wasn’t willing to break.

 _I can’t do what I did to Luis,_ she reminded herself. She had hated the guy, sure, though repeating her behavior would not be the most mature response in hindsight. Garrett was better than her ex husband.

She could do better and listen to the request of her lover to be faithful.

 _Faithful_.

The word made her sad, even now. Being a good friend to many took a certain heart, a particular talent, more than being faithful to one. It made sense to her that relationships were the same.

When _did_ I start thinking this way?

 _Maker, that’s just your luck_ , _Isabela_ . The pirate felt annoyed at herself, _it was when you had your other name._

* * *

  **9:21 Dragon**

Naishe walked around the markets of the upper class district of Antiva city. It was 10pm at night, the usual time for evening meals in the city. She took care not to trip on the smooth, slightly wet tiles with her high heels. She had her long, dark hair tied up by a silver chain link that was long enough to  trail around her neck like a necklace. Her dress was tailor made, sewn with  a strong weave of high quality silk. As the rain thickened she wrapped her cloak tighter around herself and promptly avoided the gazes of men. The sharp salt from the ocean breeze filled her nostrils. Truth be told, she had no intention to go anywhere in particular.

Reluctantly, Naishe chose a tavern that was vibrant with candles and the tempting scents of sizzling meats, seafood and vegetables, and ordered a drink. As it was prepared, she avoided staring at the brilliant lanterns or tapping her foot to the lively music. Once she received her cocktail, she seated herself on one of the empty tables outside. It became clear that it had been free because the table was rickety and risked tipping plates on the ground. The family at another table were celebrating a namesday, yet they sounded middle class. She turned to the side to better hear another table and instead caught the eye of a slim, tanned young man from near the door, dressed in earthy colours and a black tunic.

He approached her and held out a hand with a broad smile.  “Good evening. I wonder if you are waiting for someone? I don't believe a gorgeous woman such as yourself should wait long, no?”

Naishe shook it back.

This man had clearly grown up here, as he had the familiar accent. It was only with him this close that she saw he was an elf. He looked muscly too in the arms. Maybe he was the soldier of one of the Antivan princes. “Er, no, just waiting to hear a great story.”

“You’re in the right city for that, lovely lady.”

“You’d think so, yet I haven’t found treasure on it yet.”

The elf frowned as he spotted her drink. “You chose the Agua de Brynnlaw, I see. I hope another beautiful woman won't be a victim to its spell.”

Naishe smiled at him, examining the glass filled with orange liquid. “Is it poisonous?”

“I hope not. For me, it tastes very pleasant. Though perhaps that is the secret, and that it is why it will fool you.”

“It was so nice of you to warn me,” Naishe said. She offered him the seat next to her and he took it. “What are you doing tonight?”

“I do whatever I like,” the man said. “That is the way it should be, no?”

Naishe agreed but she didn't want to say. “You’re a man. Of course you can say that. You CAN do whatever you want.”

“You are here, and you are safe so long as you are around me.”

He was almost too familiar.

“You have a lot of confidence in yourself. Are you military?”

“Hah, not at all. I am Zevran.”

“Naishe,” she responded, while noticing he had dodged the question.

“Such a beautiful name. What is to say that you can't do whatever you want?“

“My conscience and social convention,” Naishe said grimly, “but I have temporarily evaded the clutches of an older man. Maybe I should do more.”

“Ah, but having a conscience is a terrible thing, don’t you think?” Zevran said. “As the case may be, if you had control over your destiny, what would you do with your newly grasped freedom?”

There were too many answers to that question. “I have been too occupied having a conscience to know.”

“Mm that is a big concern.”

Maybe he was right.

“What’s freedom like? I’m guessing you have it,” Naishe said.

“Yes. I have freedom so long as my responsibilities don’t call for me,” Zevran said with a tap on his nose. Naishe couldn’t help but smile back. This elf seemed like he would make a great story, though he was male. It would arouse suspicion.

“Have you ever wanted to be a woman?” Naishe asked, suddenly, “I have to make up a story of meeting some posh lady so the man of the house doesn’t think I am straying from my woman duties, though it’s not my favourite job in the world.”

Zevran laughed. “Not while I have drunk so little. I joke. I can tell you many tales of women, if you wish.”

He winked. Realizing she was leaning a little too close toward him, Naishe sat up straighter to try conceal her attraction to him. Feeling like _that_ was ridiculous… and new. He was a total stranger.

“Am I blushing?” Naishe asked, despite herself. Somehow, she just trusted him.

Zevran hummed to himself and brought his hands gently to her face. She spotted a short braid near his left ear, and how his short hair was uneven on both sides. “Only a little, but it could be the cold.”

For a frightening split second, he caught her eye and she grinned. Already, she knew this man was the best human being in the whole of Antiva City.  

Zevran held out a hand. “Would you like to dance in there? There is an extravagant party, the lights are gorgeous… or is sitting and looking like you have nothing to do your preferred activity?”

Naishe considered whether she wanted to dance with Zevran. These weren’t the shoes for it, and she wasn’t in the dress for it. It would be so easy for everything to go wrong. Though… maybe that’s why she could prepare for it to go wrong.

“Before you do anything, I need you to know that I am married. To someone I hate. As the Maker would have it, I am married to them anyway,” Naishe said.

Zevran looked impressed with her. “It is wise for you to say. The choice is still yours. I will do what you wish, husband or no husband. Does he hate you?”

“He might as well.”

The woman drank the rest of her drink and tried to avoid Zevran’s eye. When she did she still had a mental image of him, so that plan didn't work.

“You seem curious for excitement,” Zevran said quietly, with more uncertainty than he had all night. “I understand that this is not my business, though does he not please you in bed?”

Naishe laughed before she could stop it and almost spat on him. “Zevran, please. That isn't what sex is for.”

“Well, it is for those who are smarter and kinder,” Zevran said. He raised his eyebrows then pointed to his head. “My, my, perhaps then… I take it he is not a thoughtful man in bed.”

“Sex can’t be enjoyed. Not with a big man leering at you while he shoves it in and out.”

Her new friend looked thoughtful. “While you consider whether you desire to stray from your leash, would you be interested in attending a festivity in a few days?”

“The question is whether I can sneak away, unnoticed,” Naishe shot back.

“I am certain you can… you made it here, after all. So what is your answer?”

She peered deep into his eyes and regretted it immediately. How was it possible that just _looking_ at someone could make her feel so alive? Zevran looked patient, and compassionate, like he dearly wanted her company for her knack for conversation… a quality other, lesser man tended to ignore.

“What should I wear? And why did you choose a goody goody like me to talk to?”

“The way you walked and moved was… unnatural and stiff. I presumed there is more to you than that and I was curious.”

“That’s very kind of you to notice. You pay great attention to detail.”

Despite wondering about his work, she didn't press. “What exciting women stories can you tell me?”

“How about I share after a dance?”

Reluctantly, she danced for one song, enough to not get sweat stains on her clothes or accidentally destroy the fabric.

* * *

 

The man of the house, whom was also her husband, approached Naishe at her desk while she practiced her writing. Twenty years her senior, Luis had the beginning of a receding hairline, a trim dark moustache, beard and hooked nose. He had his shirt slightly undone from the humidity.

“Naishe… are you going somewhere tonight?” Luis asked.

Why her husband had to be sweaty and gross when Naishe was not allowed such a luxury, was beyond her comprehension. Still, she leaned forward and kissed him.

“Yes. The dinner party with Lady Amelia,” Naishe said.

“It’s not like you to organize such events without me,” Luis said, “What is the occasion?”

“I am wearing in some shoes and will be asking around for recommendations on something nicer to wear on your names day without wobbling like the wounded.”

“Very well,” Luis kissed her. Naishe tried not to screw up her face as he said, “Enjoy yourself.”

Before she left, Naishe snuck into Luis’s room and tucked one of his ugly man rings into her bra, one that she knew he wouldn’t miss.

* * *

 “What secret lair are you taking me to?” Naishe asked, as they stepped away from their meeting place at one of the ships by the port. Zevran was wearing a button up black tunic with dark grey trousers and a leather belt. It even looked like he had put some powder on his eyelids to bring out the rich colour of his eyes.  

“We are going to where dreams cease to be a vivid image in your head,” Zevran said. “I understand your apprehension, though I suspect you will have fun. Do you have a gift to offer and the entry fee?”

“I brought one of my husband's wines. He has a cellar full of them,” Naishe said, flashing the bottle and cork from the inside of a tote bag.

“That is an excellent gift,” Zevran praised, “I do not mean to cause offense you by asking… do you have a change of clothes?”

“I sold two of my dresses to purchase this,” Naishe explained, showing the dress that was underneath a layer of tissue paper in the same bag.

“It is utterly gorgeous,” Zevran said, beaming, “and it will impress many of the guests, myself included.”

 _I swear that smile could kill someone by burning them from the inside. Damn the Maker!_ Naishe flushed darker, and tried to avoid his eye. “I was hoping to enter by selling this,” she said, showing him the ring from her chest. The elf leaned forward to touch the weave of gold and gemstone with his fingers.

“It is well crafted,” Zevran said, “The, uh, man at the door likes trading. The trouble will be whether he is there today.”

“If not, I’ll find someone to sell it to.”

They walked at a faster pace now that the woman wasn’t showing the contents of bags. It was overcast this evening and a breeze from the ocean sprayed some left over rain from puddles on their shoes.

“You’re very confident.”

“Let’s say I learned a lot of unlady like habits from my mother,” she said, with a grin.

“I see. The beautiful woman has more mysteries. I also have learned many unlady like habits over my life.” Zevran said with that same sparkling grin.

Flustered, Naishe took a deep breath. “Maker, do you smile like that at everyone?”

“Sadly, I don’t know. I cannot see what you are seeing, so it is difficult to say for certain. Does it look dangerous or does it reflect poorly on me?”

“ _I’m_ probably reflecting badly on me,” Naishe said, “It looks… like you find me the most interesting person in the world.”

“The world has a lot of competition. If I am honest, it would be impossible to choose the most interesting person,” Zevran said, “Yet I do find you fascinating, Naishe, possibly one of the ten of most charming women I have met in my life.”

“I can’t tell if that’s a compliment or an insult,” Naishe said with a chuckle.

“You should take it as a compliment. I have met so many women I have lost count.”

Naishe grinned.

“I must admit it is slightly surprising and humbling that you don’t think I am lying to you,” the elf said. 

Naishe considered herself to be apt at spotting liars. Zevran had all the qualities that should be setting her alarms off, yet he didn’t.

“I can’t logically explain why I trust you, and that is honestly worrying.”

“Ah, perhaps I am simply too _interesting_ , no?” he said with a flutter of his eyelashes.

Her attraction to him was too bloody obvious. “Don’t get full of yourself!” she retorted. 

They disappeared past the market and to a house that looked diminutive in comparison to what Naishe was used to. The ceiling was almost flat. The house was a cube in structure, painted beige with dark brown beams that sometimes crossed diagonally over the building. She couldn’t remember stepping in a place like this since being married so found her heart pounding as they approached the door.  

The interior was spacious and made entirely of polished wood, the floorboards, the walls and the ceiling included. However, the patterns the boards made reminded Naishe of puzzles and the better parts of her childhood. Two circular tables with white table cloths were along one wall with tapas: slow cooked beef, cod loin with tomato and bread, roasted potato, frittata and salad, among others. A bunch of guests were crowded around it, with a variety of revealing to classy outfits of red, pink, silver and black.

The ever so elusive ‘door man’ was drinking wine slowly on a sofa inside, the bottom half of his face covered in a metal… _thing_. He accepted Naishe’s ring without question, slipped it on his right finger, provided change, and said that she would be allowed free entry to the next three events if she wished. She wasn’t used to the slight resonance from his voice being in contact with metal.

“That’s wonderful,” Naishe said, with a winsome smile. It’s not like she was losing anything by getting rid of that ugly ring.

They provided their gifts to the host of the party, a woman in her mid-40s. She was delighted by the wine.

Guests were sitting and drinking. It looked like a lead up to one of Luis’s hunting session's, only there were women holding hands with the men, men using other men as foot rests, and women biting other women.

“Zevran, good to see you made it with all your limbs intact.”

A guest in a black suit and a red tie had found them.

“I am pleased to have all my limbs as well,” Zevran said. “This is my friend, Manuela.”

“How do you do?” Naishe said, pleasantly surprised by the pseudonym Zevran had used for her. It had ‘ _Man’_ in it, which meant to her that the elf was saying she was powerful.  

“How lovely a name.” A woman next to the man stepped forward too. “I am Rebeca and this is my master, Thiago.”

“Do you like working at this house?” Naishe asked the servant.

Zevran smiled and said quietly, “Manuela does not yet understand the language here.”

“My sincerest apologies,” Rebeca said, “Usually the friends Zev brings have already been given explanations.”

Naishe shot Zevran a hateful look.

“I thought it best that Manuela sees first hand,” Zevran said.

“I understand. You're a one of a kind?” Rebeca winked.

“I am going to pretend I understand,” Naishe said.

“That won't be for long, I hope,” Zevran muttered.

“How much do you know about this place?” Thiago inquired.

“That it is apparently fun to be here and that's all I know.”

“Learning, wonderful,” Rebeca  said. She leaned closer. “Manuela, my paid work is at a manor for one of the big names, you see. I am a servant _there_. That is my paid job, although serving Master Thiago is my passion.”

“But wouldn't it be so much better if you got silver for it too?” Naishe joked. She didn't understand the explanation completely.

Rebeca laughed, the black frills around her breasts moving as she did. “She’s a treasure.”

Thiago found a single silver coin out of his purse and handed it to Rebeca.

“Thank you kindly, master,” Rebeca said with a kiss on the man’s hand. “If you consider me worthy, intermittent payment in future please, master.”

Thiago was smiling warmly at her. “Very well, servant.”

Naishe stared at them. Servant or whatever, they treated each other so… respectfully.

“How did you two meet?” she asked.

“Here,” The couple replied with a chuckle.

“8 years ago,” Thiago clarified. “We fell for each other within a month.”

Naishe couldn't relate to the ever mystical ‘falling in love’. “Do you mean that serving Thiago is a hobby?”

“In part. It is like enjoying knitting because you are making a scarf for someone you care for. I like service though I am passionate for serving my master, opposed from others.”

“She serves me and I command her as to both our wishes.”

Naishe beamed. It was a lot to take in. Suddenly another woman, one younger and plumper with flaming red hair came by. “For you, Master? Madam?” Her eyes brightened. “Ah, a new guest of the house!”

“Paola, this is Manuela,” Thiago said, “Manuela this is my second lover and my second voluntary servant.”

Slightly taken aback, Naishe looked from Paola and Rebeca and saw no animosity. “Wait, are you saying you’re allowed to do that?”

Zevran chuckled.

“Of course,” Thiago replied, looking slightly befuddled by the question.

“We agreed to the conditions, of course,” Rebeca added.

“You can’t just tell me that and _not_ explain how this happened?!” Naishe demanded. She couldn’t figure out if she was more disturbed by this information or excited.

“I met Master and Madam at a party like this at another house,” Paola said. “I was already friends with Rebeca. I asked her if Thiago was looking for another servant. She said not actively, though we bonded over that initially.”

“He seemed to like her,” Rebeca said, “I asked if he did.”

“Within six months of careful deliberation, and with my dear’s blessing, I invited Paola to dinner.”

“Our two year anniversary is a month from now,” Paola said excitedly.

Naishe smiled too. They all looked happy and cute. It was contagious.

“Does anyone else know?”

Everyone laughed.

“No, Manuela, don't be absurd.”

“Why is it absurd? You aren't married.”

“Our reputations can still be ruined. It would be a scandal and we may never find work again,” Rebeca said. “I would like to tell my children from my previous marriage one day but they take too much after their father and I don't think they will understand. I will wait a few years.”

“I was optimistic like you, Manuela, and my family disowned me,” Paola  said, “except my sister. I live with her now. My parents keep it a secret out of shame.”

“I know how that feels,” Naishe said, “Except without the sister. I have a husband instead. He…”

She went silent, upon remembering Zevran was listening. A moment longer and she would have said, _He says he loves me but it's not the same way you love each other._

 _Because he doesn’t love me,_ Naishe thought. _Not for me. He loves me for what I can do for him._

It wasn't like these voluntary servants though. She didn't _want_ to be his servant. She was basically his slave, as she got no coin. Doing what he wanted was unenjoyable and a chore. She was just his toy and she had no say. It didn’t have a title.

Oh wait. Yes it did. She was called a ‘wife’.

The distress must have showed on her face because Paola wrapped her arms around her.

“Smile, Manuela. You can find a new family here.”

“I… thanks,” she reluctantly replied.

Once that hug was over Zevran put a hand affectionately on her shoulder, Naishe didn't remove it.

“I think it is time for some fun, yes?” Zevran said.

“Party time!” Paola jumped up happily.

After eating some tapas, they went to what was called the ‘noise room’. Noise it did have, yet not from music. It seemed like a room where people hurt each other in some erotic way, either without clothes, or without portions of their clothes. The room was much darker with only a few smaller torches. Light also came from the smokey wicks those dripping hot candle wax on each other. Others were being hit while tied to chairs, others were laying over laps, and one was sticking needles into someone’s shoulders. One man being whipped was drawing blood from his back. Stunned, Naishe watched the blood slowly drip over the raw flesh, unable to look away.

“That looks more painful than being tortured by the Princes’ armies,” she muttered.

“That is not the worst I have seen,” Zevran said, “What do you think?”

She spoke louder to be heard over cracks of a whip and the bleeding guy who was screaming. “Now I want to know what are in the other rooms.”

“There are some who pretend to be horses, and others who pretend to be pets. The materials the horses and their tamers use are expensive and of high quality. It is impressive from an artistic standpoint.”

“ _Neigh_.” Naishe imitated a pony with the clatter of her heels. “Is it your long lost dream to be a dashing stallion riding into a sunset?”

“Perhaps it is merely a dream. I don’t know if I have the musculature to do such magnificent animals justice.”

Zevran flexed one of his arms and inspected the muscle with an inquisitive expression.

Naishe rolled her eyes, smiling all the same.  

“It depends what you would like to do. We can watch, chat in the main room or dance. It is entirely up to you,” Zevran said.

“Right now I think it would be funny to put my husband in horse equipment and force him to eat hay.”

Zevran laughed, his eyes sparkling. “Yes, though where would we get hay in Antiva City?”

“I’ll feed him a carrot then and dangle it out of reach.”

The man yelped something in Antivan. His back now looked like raw steak that had been slashed beyond recognition.

Suddenly the room was comparatively quiet as the whipping stopped. The muscly man who had been whacking the guy brought a wet towel to the stranger’s back. He let out of a groan. The solution the cloth had been dipped in was probably filled with salt.

Naishe moved nearer to Zevran. “Thanks for inviting me. I’ve barely been here for twenty minutes and it’s already the most exciting, crazy party I’ve ever attended in my life.”

Zevran smiled. “It is my pleasure. Though I must admit the novelty wears away after a while. However, for me, it is much more enjoyable to participate than watch these days.”

Naishe stepped closer. “Is that why you brought me here?”

“I hope, but I do not expect you to do anything I might want. Besides, your reactions are entertaining.”

“If it’s with you, I will try something,” Naishe said. Her attraction for him burned brighter than the torture candles as a kind hearted affection combined itself with it. “I feel like anything, except the whip, would be fun with you.”

Zevran looked pleased. “You are willing, I see, yet what will you do about your husband?”

“I don’t know,” Naishe admitted, “I hate him.”

“Then leave.”

“I would if it didn't mean he would ruin my life.”

“I assume you cannot ask for a dalliance on the side.”

“No.” Naishe sighed. “He isn't like you… or like this.”

“Then perhaps you can inspire him to leave you?”

“I have been trying,” Naishe said, “I’ve been stealing his jewels, trinkets, making the wrong meals, sneaking out instead of reading how to sew... I don’t know if he is angry enough yet, but if he's desperate he might stay anyway.”

“Perhaps we should try something more?“

Naishe peered downtrodden at the floor. “Yes. He probably won't care. That's what makes it...funny.”

She gave a half-hearted, cynical smile.

“It is incredibly depressing, no?”

Zevran sounded closer to her. Cautiously, Naishe raised her gaze to peer into his eyes. They were amber, beautiful, and, most of all, very sorry for her. She could feel his breath on her, smell his cologne. The rest of the room ceased to exist. It was merely flashes of colour, smoke, light and skin, like the dance party from the first time they had met. She could still remember how enjoyable it was to forget all her worries, however short it was.

She nodded once, moving closer all the while, until the side of her nose touched his. She had wanted to be close to him when they danced too, though simply wasn’t able to. Now, the weight of her marriage on Zevran’s conscience too, it was easier to carry, and easier to understand what lay underneath. She wanted him more than she had ever wanted anybody. That was terrifying, feeling like she could do anything in a world where she could not.

Zevran moved his face away.

“What kind of fun would you like to have, Naishe?” he asked her, softly.

“Fun that is more dangerous and morally wrong than having my back split open with a whip,” she muttered back, touching his nose with hers again.

“ _Quizás_ , an affair?” Zevran asked, a realization coming over him.

It was too difficult, too cruel to affirm the crime he spoke of, even when marriage was a formal cruelty to her. Her eyes brimming with tears over the sheer shame of it, the inescapable wrongness of it, Naishe closed her eyes and kissed him. It took a few times for her to get it right, as she was used to kissing her husband, whose mouth moved differently to Zevran’s. He held onto her shoulders as he returned the gesture. It was gentler compared to Luis, more patient, deeper, and the kiss lasted a lot longer.

They pressed themselves against each other. “I suggest you change into your other dress, before your affair becomes apparent too quickly.”

Naishe gave a wide smile. “I hear you.”

All inhibitions gone, the woman unzipped her dress from behind and climbed out of it, enjoying the goose bumps rise upon her chest, belly, back, arms and legs. The lace bra and knickers was one of the most expensive lingerie in the room. Zevran watched her in a manner that wasn’t crude or expectant. He merely observed. She then changed into the dress she had brought, one that was black except for silver ruffles at the bottom, a silver string around the cleavage to tighten if she wished. She loosened this string, removed her bra and handed it to Zevran.

“Keep this for now,” she said. “I want to be tied. What you do after that is your prerogative.”

“That is a very generous offer,” Zevran said, balancing the bra strap on one of his arms. He pointed to a spare chair in the corner tucked under one of the small tables, and picked a wooden spoon off it. “I will borrow this, and will be back. I will be gone for only for a moment.”

Naishe nodded. The table had an assortment of hitting devices she didn’t know the names of. With a sweep of his hand, Zevran said, “A chair for a beautiful, exciting woman.”

Slightly tentative, she sat down on it and put her carry bag underneath the chair. Zevran disappeared and a sense of dread filled Naishe of what she was doing. Then she remembered how angry she was at Luis and this helped distract her, as well as the sight of a woman being spanked in a corner.

Zevran returned with some chains balancing on his arms. He bent down, put the bra on the floor under the chair, and hit the inside of her leg gently with the spoon. “Keep your legs close to the chair legs.”

She did as he asked, and Zevran began to chain her legs to the chair.

“I borrowed these from a dear friend so we must not damage them. Apparently these are slave bindings from Tevinter. Very expensive. They are old, second hand, so not supporting the industry, so I am told.”

“Maker help me,” Naishe sighed. People went to great lengths to get high quality materials for sex.

He tugged on the chain. “Not too tight?”

“No.”

“Tell me if it becomes that way,” Zevran said, straightening on his knees, “Where do you like to be hit?”

“I don’t know.”

“Take a guess. Where would you like me to touch you?”

Trying not to blush (but what the hell, she probably was anyway), Naishe pointed to her breasts, and inner thighs.

Zevran smiled. “How delightful.” He raised the spoon and paused. “You must wait, I will be soft to start with.”

One hit to the left breast.

“More,” Naishe said.

Second hit. Better.

“Harder.”

Third hit. Naishe took a deep breath and met Zevran’s eyes. He gave a small smile, though was concentrating hard on where he was hitting.

“How is that?”

“Good for now.”

“Good. I will ensure that you do not remain with bruises.”

Hit number seven came, twelve...and she lost count. Naishe was aware of eyes on her now. She was starting to pull against the chains. With every hit, the more she wanted him to touch her, the more the physical pain was adding to the arousal.

Soon she felt like she was in a kind of dream state, on the verge of her consciousness drifting blissfully away.

“Hey,” Naishe called out. Everything felt faraway.

“Yes?”

“Do you want to touch me for real?”

Zevran answered by putting the spoon at her feet, kneeling down at the space on the floor between her thighs and running his hands over her now pink breasts. It felt liberating, and chilling, as a needle prick sensation went down her spine and pleasure flooded to where his fingers touched her. She moaned as if she didn’t want to be moaning, didn’t desire to be desired, though her body was lying to her. With her free hands, she stroked him wherever she could reach, even areas that seemed innocuous. She wasn’t sure what she was doing.

Zevran didn’t seem to mind and kissed her.

“I’m sorry,” Naishe muttered, embarrassed.

“There is no need,” Zevran replied.

She grabbed his hair to pull him towards her and whispered. “Can we… you know…. lose our clothes?”

“I’m afraid the owner of this house does not allow it,” Zevran said. “However, if you are interested in such fun, we can do so at my accommodation at another time.”

Suddenly, the guilt that she knew she shouldn’t really be feeling came over her, the fear.

“I should go,” she said. “I… shouldn't be here.”

“I see you are not friends with the spoon,” Zevran said, knowingly, “One day, it will happen.”

“Surprisingly the spoon was excellent. I should go home. I am meant to be suspicious, not overly suspicious.”

“Would you like to meet again, somewhere more private next time?”

Naishe nodded, breathless, the room coming back to her in sparkles of colour.

“Before we depart, I must make sure you are well and you should rest until the effects of the marvelous spoon have left,” Zevran said, giving her a quick hug.

He’d only managed to unravel the chains from her ankles, when Naishe felt an uncontrollable, untoward, heavy melancholy come over her and she burst into tears.

“Look, I’ve gone mental,” she blubbered.

“No. Surprisingly, that is still the spoon. And possibly myself,” Zevran said, though he looked slightly worried. “We will find somewhere to lay down and it will be alright.”

Needless to say, before she changed back into her posh dress and returned home she spent a lot of time in the bathroom washing the sweat off of herself with a cloth and drying herself.

* * *

 

**9:41 Dragon**

No. She couldn’t think about this anymore. She knew what happened next. With Hawke’s words weighing on her,  just thinking about her affair made her think she was being unfaithful to him too. This was so unlike her.

She searched the Herald’s rest, and Garrett was not at the place she had last seen him. That table was empty. While scanning the surroundings, a familiar Qunari caught her eye from his usual spot.

“Looking for someone?” Bull asked with a knowing grin.

“Garrett,” Isabela said, approaching him. 

“I saw him briefly before he left. He looked pissed. Angry, that is.”

“We had an argument,” Isabela replied.

“Ah. Anything I can help with?” Bull inquired.

“Not unless you ķnow of a fool proof way to make him understand the mystical appeal of responsible, multiple err… _relations_ with others.”

Iron Bull appeared like he was not expecting that answer. He gave a short laugh. “You’re in deep shit, Isabela. Balls deep at that.”

“Finally, someone understands the gravity of the situation.”

“I don’t have much experience with it myself. From what I’ve seen, I’d be an idiot to say it’s easy. Do you think that you can be with him if there is this difference between you?”

“I want to be.”

“That doesn't mean you can.”

Isabela sighed and sat down next to him. “Point out the obvious, why don’t you? I don’t think it is as simple as that.”

She reached across the table and took a sip of Bull’s drink.

* * *

 

**9:21 Dragon**

As she made room on the bed for Zev to lie beside her, Naishe gripped the edge of the frame to stop herself from falling off it. She didn’t think she’d ever had sex like _that_ before, sex that she wanted to go on forever rather than wanting it to end as soon as possible.

“ _What_ was that?” she muttered, in some stupendous denial. The muffled voices of the brothel guests outside Zev’s room were more audible now.

“I apologize if you have not ever seen a man become exhausted from over exertion before.”

Naishe snorted. “Not that. I mean, it was… um… pleasantly interesting.”

She closed her eyes as he ran his fingers over her collar bone. “Is that… a hint that I should do better next time?”

“No. It means you were amazing,” Naishe said. “Rather, that you _are_ and continue to be amazing, and that’s why I enjoy it all the more.”

“I am pleased to hear it.”

Naishe turned to him and smiled. “Now I don’t know what to do if Luis decides he wants to kill me.”

She sat up and ran her fingers through her hair.

“Yes. A problem. Imagine the worst scenario arises. Would you like to learn to defend yourself?”

“With a weapon?” Naishe asked. “Of course!”

“Very well.”

In a flash of movement, Zevran had grabbed something from the other side of the bed frame and brought it to her neck. The woman’s eyes practically went cross eyed and spotted a very sharp, silver blade.

Naishe screamed and recoiled.

The elf laughed. “Naishe, my dear, you will not be able to defend yourself against anyone if you become frightened and lose your concentration.”

“You didn't give me any warning!”

“Would anybody if they are trying to harm you?”

Naishe took a deep breath. “I am not a killer. I don't know.”

“I am a trained assassin and I do know making noise ruins an enemy's ability to fight back.”

Naishe’s heart jumped. “You mean you are…”

“A type of assassin named after a dark bird, yes.”

The words were barely out of his mouth when he brought his blade to her throat again.

Naishe gasped in terror though did not scream this time. She kept her body steady, half whimpering under her breath. The blade could cut open her throat it was so close. Terrified, she looked into Zevran’s concentrating eyes, just like when he was focused on kissing her. For some reason, knowing he was part of the Antivan crows did not scare her. 

He lowered the blade again.

“Remember that I won't hurt you, and neither will anyone else once you learn enough. Once you learn not to fear the blade, you will have the focus to effectively counter it. We will keep repeating this until you are not afraid.”

The relief and adrenaline left Naishe faster this time. She exhaled in relief, dizzy with the rush.

“I get it. It makes logical sense but I don't think the average person thinks that way when there is a knife in front of them.”

“That is part of the reason why they will die. Even those trained in combat who have not mastered their fear also fall to their deaths or get injured quickly. But I don't believe you are average or ordinary, and you should work this to your advantage.”

Zevran did a trick twirling the blade before bringing it to Naishe’s neck again. Like before, the panic was slightly less. As her heart pounded in her ears, the woman stayed immobile and kept locked on Zevran’s gaze. Not a sound exited her lips. The fear was nearly rising a feeling of desire in her, much like the anticipation of being chained to a chair.

The assassin leaned forward and carefully, gently kissed her. Naishe became woosy with adrenaline of a different sort.

“Very good,” he praised, moving the knife away. “That is enough for today. You deserve a reward for your perseverance and bravery.”

* * *

 

“Naishe,” Luis said. He stood besides her while she scrubbed root vegetables in the sink. “Do you know where I found these?”

He opened his hand to reveal two rings, a small amount of the ones she had stolen and sold in the months of knowing Zevran.

Feigning innocence, Naishe shook her head. “No idea.”

“One of my colleagues had it traded to him by a young man.”

“Uh huh. Who was the young man?”

“Joaquín I am told,” Luis said. “How did my possessions find their way into another's hands?”

“I am sure some imagination wouldn't kill you,” Naishe scoffed.

“That is true,” Luis admitted, “and yet it could kill you. I want an honest answer. Did you take them from this manor?”

“Yes,” Naishe said. “I stole them.”

“What reason did you have to do that?”

“I wanted to help clean the house,” Naishe said loftily.

“You hate cleaning,” Luis remarked.

“People change.”

“They do. Sometimes not for the better.”

“You don’t want a wife that cleans?”

“No. I don't want a wife who is dishonest. Why did you really steal my belongings?”

“To irritate you,” Naishe replied.

Luis stared at her for a while. “That I can believe. I expect an apology by the end of the night.”

 _I expect an apology for you dooming me to unhappiness,_ she wanted to say.

Maddened, Naishe snatched one of the kitchen knives from its holder, took a few careful seconds to aim and threw it. It swooshed across the room before lodging itself in the velvet arm chair Luis was standing near.

Disconcerted, her husband stared at the knife before removing it. He looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

“My mistake. Sorry I missed your head,” Naishe said.

Silence.

“I am sorry I married you,” he replied.

It wasn't a sincere apology. The woman knew that her husband was wallowing in self pity.

 _He knows,_ Naishe thought, _he knows about everything. He just wants to make me look like the crazy one._

She waited before he was out of sight before breaking down in fearful tears. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. She had wanted him to get angry. And she wasn't meant to be scared. 

_Maybe I am mental_

* * *

 

**9:24 Dragon**

 

There was a time when Luis was long gone that Isabela believed she had reclaimed her sanity.

That was when she fell in love. Most considered that insanity, though back then, it felt like everything had fallen into place. Finally, she had a life she didn't believe she would ever have. 

Isabela ate the last of the cherry mousse and chocolate cake one of her to be fiance’s servants had prepared. Over the past few months, she had been under eating and losing more weight than she should in preparation for a wedding. Her knickers were starting to risk falling off her. Her fiance sat next to her with a small smile on his face, though it grew less convincing with every mouthful.  Her lover wore his hair in a plait and could make tunics look good. He had warm brown eyes.

“I trust you are fine, darling?”

Isabela nodded. “Y-yes.”

“You are nervous about the wedding again, aren’t you?” he asked, “Have you thought any more about how to explain your feelings?”

“I don’t know what is wrong with me,” Isabela said, “if I knew I would tell you.”

Her lover leaned forward, looking pained and kissed her. “I won’t treat you like Luis did, Isabela. Please believe me. I will swear it into my vows if I have to.”

“I believe that. I believe you,” Isabela said, adding emphasis to each word. “I love you.”

He said he loved her back.

Once he left the table to run a hot bath, Isabela stared at the ring on her finger for a long time. Her friends said nerves were normal, though she didn’t think it was supposed to be like this. The very thought made her feel dread and want to stop time.

What was there to stop? 

Honeymoon, fun, babies, crushing expectations to be proper were next and… life as blissful, routine usual.

It couldn't be done.

She took off the ring, left it on the table, changed into her plain garb, covered herself in a cloak and paused.

 _I know you’re going to obsess over this so I wanted to repeat: there’s nothing wrong with you,_ she wrote into her silk handkerchief _, there’s something wrong with me. Something that you can't make go away. I love you and I am sorry. I don't know more than that right now, but I can't marry you after all. I thought I could but this is making me mental. I promise that's the truth. If I ever figure out why, I will find a way to let you know._

And yet when she ran from her lover that night, careful to take as much of her coin as she could, she reminisced on her time with Zevran, and something about it felt so right, and the ring was so wrong, a painting of something unsettling, like a smoke imbued sunset. Rings were meant for selling, not wearing for the rest of eternity. At least, not the wedding rings she knew of.

* * *

 

**9:41 Dragon**

Isabela went to her quarters, which was an alcove that had been turned into a bedroom. Garrett was snoozing peacefully under the covers. He had washed himself. No blood remained in his beard and a bandage covered the cut on his face. The pirate changed into nightwear (just a different tunic and no knickers) before approaching him.

“Garrett.” It looked like he was sleeping, so she shook him. “You’re not dying of alcohol poisoning, are you?”

Her partner stirred and opened his eyes. “Hello Isabela.”

He grabbed her arm and tugged it.

She hesitated. “This better not turn into another argument. You make less sense when you're sleepy.”

“Isabela… I don’t want to fight anymore.”

“Good, neither do I. I did have an idea though.”

“Shoot.”

She took a deep breath and recited what she had practiced saying with Bull.

“I am sorry that I didn't think to bring the topic of...what we were talking about tonight... earlier. It seems normal to me but it would have been a shock to you. I wasn't trying to offend you.”

Garrett seemed suddenly interested. “Same. I wasn't trying to be nasty. Sorry if I was an ass anyway. It did get me wondering if you have ever had more than one relationship in the past where everyone was in on it?”

“Only sexual ones,” Isabela admitted, “I was always careful with those.”

“That doesn't surprise me,” Hawke said with a smile.

“Anyway, don't worry about it. I know it is not your idea of a good time, but just know that if I continue to live life as I have been, there’s always going to be a part of me that wants that life. No matter how happy I am with you. I am going to get restless from time to time.” She paused, afraid, but Hawke was still listening. “If you can accept that then maybe we have a chance of making this work.”

“Why aren't I enough? “ Hawke asked, sadly, “What makes that ‘other life’ so great?”

“what doesn't make it great? It isn't about you lacking something. I love you. I like being free to experience all that life has before it sails away. That's all. It I know I can't have everything but I want to be honest about it.”

“I love you too,” he said.

She joined him under the covers and they held each other.

“I might never agree with you,” Hawke said, finally, “but I want to understand. I am going to keep trying to understand until I do. That way I can accept how you feel. That's all I promise.”

“That’s all I’m asking for.” Isabela kissed him. “Thank you.”


End file.
